


Along for the Ride

by colls



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:15:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colls/pseuds/colls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Andromeda and Rommie share space. No spoilers for any season.<br/>Written for the prompt: changing interfaces</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along for the Ride

Rommie had always ridden Andromeda's data net. She was born on it, after all. She slips into it easily, at times without thought or purpose, drifting in through the corridor sensors and skipping along relay clusters. 

Andromeda, on the other hand, had only briefly peered into Rommie's posi-tronic pathways, and not once had she tried to integrate properly. Rommie wasn't sure if she should be offended or not. The warship side of her can be condescending at times, regarding her android form with disdain. Scoffing and telling Rommie that the android form is merely a shell that seems small and confining.

It's ironic to her that the opposite is true. Her android form has given her more freedom than she ever imagined possible. 

She allows herself more as an android; more options in everything from tactical matters to clothing, more private moments, more organic interactions. She considers her independence as she walks through the corridor, a light bounce in her step and a whistle on her lips.

 

************

Like a stray subroutine humming along the periphery. That's what it feels like when her android side piggybacks on her data net. Oh that android would deny it, but Andromeda knows exactly what she's doing. She pulls on all the external sensory feeds and bounces off them, creating virtual echoes. Andromeda wasn't built yesterday and she's played along those same pathways herself. Surfing stardust. 

The warship doesn't blame her. Being trapped inside that small frame for an extended period of time can't be comfortable. In fact, being cooped up is probably what's giving her those stray programs. The ones that are affecting her behavior, causing her to think she's like other crew members. From where the warship is sitting, it appears that the android almost thinks it's human. Which is simply ridiculous. There must be a flaw in there somewhere. 

After the disasterous affair with that other android, Harper has performed extensive diagnostics and assures her that nothing is amiss. Like he'd tell her if there was. Andromeda knows that her engineer is half in love with her avatar, who does he think he's fooling?

The warship doesn't hide these thoughts from her android, nor does the android hide her preferences for her form from the warship. They often spend time extolling the merits of their preferred form between evaluating long range sensors and cataloging communications. Their debate frequently leads nowhere, then again it's not really meant to. And while they both know this, neither of them really understands what it means. But it's comfortable, it's them.

 

************

She is focused on a thousand things, one-thousand two-hundred and eighteen of them to be precise. Shields, life support, maneuvering thrusters, tactical sensors, all the while efficiently dispatching missiles that are careening towards her hull. She is in the middle of a battle, she is at war, she is in her element. 

Her klaxons wail once before they're instantaneously silent. 

Nothingness. The warship doesn't panic, it's not programmed to panic. She can't see the database architecture, has lost sight of pathways to the rest of her core, she has no sensors and no kinetic sense of self.

Then there's a familiar hum. The subroutines of her android tentatively probing around the edges. 

_I'm here!_  
The warship wants to announce. She tries to find a pathway to speak.

 _There you are._  
She feels herself being tugged out of the corner she woke up in, which is all perfectly ridiculous because she's not in a corner and she can't wake because she can't sleep. She's... in nothing. She is nothing. She follows the hum of her android's subroutine without thought or purpose, knowing only that her android 'is', and she fears that she 'is not'.

Then she is, too. She feels sensory input again, vague and unfamiliar. Lacking in breadth and isolated. Cramped. She tries to flex, to open new pathways and expand.

“Stop hogging all the relays, Andromeda.” The android's voice is hollow and weary.

 _It's cramped in here._  
She resists the urge to use the vocal chords in the same manner as the android did, it seemed impolite somehow. Besides, the mechanics were unfamiliar.

“As soon as we can restore power to the core, you can go back to your own space.” 

 

************

The hours spent making enough repairs for the Maru to return felt like years. Andromeda did not like having to rely on her android's limited sensors to know what was happening. And things were happening at a maddeningly slow pace. 

Once the rest of the crew were on board, Harper rushed to Rommie while Dylan demanded sensors. Harper wasted no time going into a tirade about the state of things. 

"Sensors? Sensors are the least of your problems at the moment. Andromeda isn't even in the core. Did you know that? No, of course not, because I just figured it out. She's in Rommie... somehow." Harper poked at his scanner. "And Rommie's power levels are at critical. It looks like she used everything she had to pull Andromeda out of the core and restore enough life support so we could get back on board."

Dylan looked as if he were about to say something but Harper raised his hand. "I'm on it. Just help carry Rommie to my machine shop, will ya?"

"But the sensors...."

"You won't have any sensors until we can fix Rommie. Then Rommie and I can fix the core, then Andromeda can come back home and we can all get back into the business of walking into stupid situations all over again."

"Don't argue with him, Dylan." Rommie's voice was slow and mechanical.

Haper's constant commentary while working was both soothing and irritating as he shunted power from Rommie's damaged limbs and restored all her memory functions, allowing her processors to operate at full speed. Rommie and Andromeda both flexed mentally and sighed at having a little extra room. 

"I'll have to patch that leg up better later, but it should be functioning at least." 

Rommie looked down at the burnt flesh and exposed mechanical underpinnings and shrugged. "I'm not entering a beauty contest anytime soon anyway."

Repairs were still slow. Thankfully most of the hull was intact and the damage was mostly to power relays. Rommie would often have to remind Harper to do things to maintain his own power levels, things like eat and sleep. Andromeda would try to pitch in with subroutines and algorithms, but felt that Rommie was merely humoring her so she tried to stay out the way and watch while the pair of them mucked about with her hardware.

 

************

 

Finally, they are ready to field test an interface and Andromeda strains forward. Harper's warning her not to go barreling in, to step lightly and make sure the infrastructure doesn't crack. Andromeda barely hears him, she just wants back into her own space.

 _Riding along on someone else's coattails isn't all it's cracked up to be, is it?_  
Rommie senses Andromeda's eagerness and tries not to be offended.

_I could answer that better if there were room to actually ride anything in here. How do you stand the confinement?_

Rommie doesn't answer, merely initiates the interface test and their attention shifts to the computer core.

 

With a mental whoosh, Andromeda is home. She carefully examines the place, pokes data pockets gingerly and tests connections. She evaluates, diagnoses and sets up a stream to monitor. Rommie's here, too. Diligently piling on the back up routines, wearing the pathways smooth like she's fluffing pillows -- hovering in case Andromeda needs her. 

Back in her element, she feels ready for anything. Andromeda has the sensors up before Harper can blink. Yes, she's that good.

 _Show off._  
Rommie's voice has a smile though, and Andromeda wonders that she can detect such things in her android now.

They settle in to work on the remaining repairs while Dylan sets a new course. Life goes on. Meanwhile, her android rides her data net like a dancer – choreographed and in tune.

~end~


End file.
